


No regrets

by QueenXIV



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon Era, Grantaire is there to save the day though, He blames himself poor puppy, Kind of OOC Enjolras, Last moments in the barricade, M/M, So lovey dovey, kinda sad sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 13:18:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7716235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenXIV/pseuds/QueenXIV
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are the last barricade standing, and Enjolras knows they will all die, and he blames himself for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No regrets

**Author's Note:**

> Helloooooo! Bonjour, bonsoir or whatever! So, I am posting this again cause somehow it did not post? I don't know why, but only my friend was able to read it? Maybe it was so bad no one wanted to read? (NO, I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THAT T^T). 
> 
> I have so many idea for Grantaire and Enjolras, but somehow, first I had to take the sad part out of the way to write happy ones. But still, there are kisses so, not so sad. 
> 
> And I'm so inspired also, cause I'm gonna see Les Mis in London again this month and I can't wait to enjoy all the ER action *_* 
> 
> Enjoy!

The night had fallen on the city of Paris, and by default, over the last barricade standing too. Some windows had been blown by the canons and the bayonets, and the glass littered the floor, making it nearly impossible to lie down to rest for a bit. However, the students had started leaning on the broken pieces of furniture, dozing off or just staring at the starless sky. 

Grantaire took a swig from the bottle of alcohol he had nearest to him, but found it full of plain water. He spat it angrily and glared at the bottle. Joly, who had witnessed the whole thing, laughed quietly and took the bottle from him, sipping it. Bossuet extended a hand towards the doctor, who passed the bottle to him, their hands touching briefly, an intimate smile adorning both their faces; their eyes were sad, they knew what was coming. 

“What happened to the alcohol?” Grumbled Grantaire with a scowl. Combeferre had just exited Le Musain and had heard the angry question. He sat down beside the too-sober man and patted his back. 

“Enjolras replaced all the alcohol. The real one is stored in the Café, in case we need it in battle.” 

“In battle? What are you going to do? Drink them to their death?” Grantaire scoffed, and with sour legs from the bad position he was in, he got up and walked slowly towards the café, damning the revolution. He started to rummage through the drawers but when he did not find anything he sat down on the floor with a defeated look. 

He was completely alone in the Café, the distant and quiet chattering of the others barely audible in there. Then he noticed that the dead ones were keeping him company: the yes of that girl Marius had brought and cried for were staring at him, devoid of any life. He cringed and quickly stood up, retrieving a fallen blanket to cover the corpses with, as gingerly as possible. Death did not disturb him, but the dead did. Their eyes, so devoid of… Of anything reminded him too much of what his body was going to become one day. An empty shell. And maybe he could deal with this… But… With… No, he could not deal with his corpse. 

He noticed that the stairs had not been completely destroyed by the initial chaos, so maybe the alcohol had been stored upstairs. He climbed up the remaining of the stairs with difficulty and landed on the first floor on his knees. With a heavy sigh, he stood up and started rummaging through the first floor. It was almost empty, but there were a few crates, hidden away by a blanket. When he took it away he discovered his precious love under it. He smiled happily and made the move to take one of the bottles. 

“Don’t you dare touch them.” Came a broken voice from the corner of the room. It made him jump with fright, and he instantly abandoned the plan to grab the bottle in favour of scanning the room in search of the owner of the voice. And then he noticed the gleaming blonde that shone under the moonlight. 

Enjolras was sat against the wall, his face almost obscured by shadows but the glare he shot Grantaire was visible from there. He had his knees up to his chest and he hugged them with his arms. He definitely was Enjolras, but that voice did not sound like him at all, and Grantaire knew perfectly how Enjolras’ voice sounded in all states. 

Grantaire approached Enjolras slowly, like approaching a wild beast in a cage. The blonde turned his face to the window where the moon filtered from into the room. His turquoise eyes gleamed and shone brightly, but his brows were furrowed and his mouth was turned down in a scowl. 

“You frightened me. We thought you had gone to search the perimeter.” Grantaire faltered but then sat down beside his Apollo. Enjolras just shook his head, turning his head towards the dark haired one. 

“Why are you here?” The leader asked with a small voice, yet demanding. All the brokenness that had tainted his voice before was gone, and there was his usual demanding tone. 

“What?” Grantaire asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise. What a strange question, he thought; he surely has to know why. 

“Why are you here? Why are you risking your life at this barricade if you don’t believe in what we are fighting for?” 

Grantaire scoffed and shook his head, a hand passing through his untamed black curls. Enjolras furrowed his eyebrows further and turned his face away from Grantaire, glancing again at the moon. 

“Why are you hidden up here?” Grantaire asked, ignoring the other’s first question. He could see Enjolras doubt, he gulped and passed a hand through the blonde curls. 

“I cannot bear it.” 

“Bear what?” 

“The guilt…” 

“Guilt? For what?”

“If this ends in an awry way… It will be my fault, mine only. I was the one who pulled you all here, I was the once to convince you all it was necessary, that our lives were worthless if France remained under the tyranny of the monarchy… And yet now…”

“Now you don’t believe that anymore?”

“No, I do believe it. I believe in it. I would and will give my life for my land. But I would not want you to do the same. Any of you. Seeing them all downstairs, waiting for their death is unbearable. And knowing it’s my fault makes everything so much worse.” 

“Ah, but you see, we are all adult, we knew what we were getting into. You’ve given us the chance to quit; you haven’t forced us to do anything. They are here because they believe in the cause.” 

Enjolras turned his head to Grantaire again and stared at him with tearful eyes. Grantaire heart leaped, and his stomach clenched. Enjolras did not cry, Enjolras did not feel sadness. And yet, there he was, his Apollo’s strong façade was falling and in front of Grantaire. 

“And you?” Enjolras asked again with a broken voice. “Why are you here?” 

Grantaire smiled slightly at him, his own eyes filling with tears at the sadness his blonde God was suffering. He took Enjolras’ hand between his own and squeezed it tight. 

“Because I believe in you.” He had told him countless of times, it was not the first time Enjolras ha heard those words, yet, Grantaire realized that it was the first times they had sunk in. Enjolras gasped internally and the tears flowed freely, making tracks down his dirty cheeks. He gasped, trying to stifle a sob on his hand but Grantaire had already hugged him against his chest, resting his chin against the blonde hair. 

The artist didn’t say anything; he just let the blond sob against his chest, letting out all the anguish that was eating him inside out. When the sobs started to diminish and he had stopped shaking, he disentangled himself from Grantaire and stared at him. Enjolras’ eyes were red-rimmed, still shining with unshed tears, and his lips were red from biting them, and yet, he had never looked more beautiful to Grantaire. He loved the passionate Enjolras, who looked and acted like an avenging angel; but he also loved the human Enjolras, the one who let his feelings show and was full of life. He just wished those feelings weren’t of despair. 

Grantaire smiled slightly and rubbed Enjolras’ cheeks with his sleeves, like a mother would do to their kid. Enjolras gasped at the contact but let him carry on. His cheeks were still streaked with the soot from the bayonets, pistols and cannons, but they were at least not wet. 

“Thank you…” The blond murmured, almost shyly. Grantaire only smiled more brightly at him and squeezed the hand he was still holding. Then Enjolras squeezed back hardly and looked at him straight in the eyes. “Please, Grantaire leave.” 

Grantaire stared shocked at him. His heart had frozen, his insides felt wrong suddenly. He let go of the hand and let go a shuddering breath. 

“Oh… I will leave you alone.” He made the move to get up but a strong grip on his forearm stopped him and made him land on his bum again. 

“No!” Enjolras exclaimed. “No, that’s not what I meant. I… I want you to leave the barricade.”

“But-“

“No, please, let me finish. Leave please. I could not bear the thought of you dying… Dying for me… You have so much to give this world, if you just spend more time sober to be able to do it.” 

“Oh but, Apollo. That’s what I want to do. I want to die, if that’s what I must do. By your side, if the fate grants it to me. What would I do without you, Enjolras? Then I would have nothing to believe in.” 

“Be serious, Grantaire.” Grantaire cackled at those words, reminding him of another conversation. “I know I’ve been cruel to you, and for that I apologize, although I found it necessary in the time being. But now… I care, Grantaire, it might seem like I don’t, but I do have a heart.” 

“I do have a heart too, and my heart tells me to stay. And my brain, for once, agrees.” 

Enjolras pursued his lips and looked at his hand, that was still resting on my forearm. 

“I’m scared, you know?”

“Of what?”

“Of death. Of everything being useless. Of… Of being alone. I don’t want to be alone when I die, Grantaire.” 

“You won’t be. I will hold your hand.” 

“Ah, you don’t know that, Grantaire.”

“But I swear it. I will hold your hand when the time comes. And till then too.” Grantaire took Enjolras’ hand and grasped it firmly, giving him a reassuring smile. Enjolras smiled slightly, his eyes shinning with tears again, and squeezed Grantaire’s hand before resting his head on top of the joined hands. His cold nose touched the top of Grantaire’s nose and then his lips. 

“Thank you. These might be empty words, but… Thank you.” 

“I never say anything empty, Apollo, you should know that.” 

Enjolras chuckled. Grantaire thought he was totally out of character. Enjolras was never vulnerable, and with a sudden pang of sadness, Grantaire thought it would probably be the last time he saw him like this, if he ever saw him again at all. 

“Grantaire.” But Grantaire had no time to respond as his lips were being occupied by Enjolras’. It felt like a shock going through his body and his lips tingled in the most pleasant of ways. He stared one last time at Enjolras’ closed eyes before closing them himself and giving in the kiss he had been desiring for so long. Enjolras’ lips were roughened by the day, and he was as fierce in kissing as he was in every other aspect of his life. They were still holding each other’s hand tightly, and his bodies pressed together, sharing the heat they needed so much. 

Their lips separated centimetres and Grantaire thought that was it, his dream was over, but then Enjolras crashed their lips together again and straddled his lap. He kissed him passionately, giving everything he had, and Grantaire could do nothing but reciprocate with all his love. 

When Enjolras finally parted he was breathing hardly against the black haired one lips and was slightly dizzy. 

“Wow…” Sighed Grantaire. “For someone so against monarchy, you sure reign over the kisses.” 

Enjolras looked at him stunned for a minute before bursting out laughing, almost falling off Grantaire’s lap, but the artists held him in place, also laughing. Afterwards, Enjolras returned to his place, his eyes no longer full of tears, but with his brow furrowed and his lips pursued in determination again. 

“Thank you, Grantaire… If I die here… At least I will die with no regrets.”

Enjolras did not mention if it was about the kiss, but Grantaire smiled and his whole body warmed up at the idea. He stood up and extended a hand for Enjolras to take, but the leader just shook his head and declined, saying he would stay for a bit here. The artist accepted that. His relationship was undergone a drastic change, yet at the same time it remained exactly the same. They were not together, but they did share something very important. 

Grantaire spared a last glance at Enjolras, taking on how the moonlight showered his godly features. He turned his back on him with a last smile and walked to the stairs. 

“Grantaire!” The artist turned around to look at his leader and found him still on the floor but staring at him. Then Enjolras smiled a bit and Grantaire swore that he was even blushing. “I believe in you, too.” 

And for Grantaire that was enough to rest in peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos and comments, always appreciated!


End file.
